Date Night
by FilmsAreFriends
Summary: Post Season 2 finale. This is for a friend in the Lizzington shippers Facebook group. This is my secret Santa fic. Happy hiatus!


Despite popular belief, Raymond Reddington had a great deal of free time. After years in his business, he could afford to delegate most of his tasks, unless a great risk was involved. He had trust in his associates; they had never given him a reason to be suspicious. Most of them had similar bad blood with the Cabal, which gave them all a motive to work with Reddington. He was confident that not a single associate would double cross him.

If one of them did, of course, they would be six feet under in an hour.

His free time had gotten away from him, though. Ever since he and Lizzie fled, he spent most of his time working-on the phone, crunching numbers, paying visits to "old friends". He hated not having that precious alone time-it was the only thing that let him maintain some semblance of sanity.

About two months into their adventure, Red ran out of things to do. He and Lizzie were tucked away in a small cottage in the private part of Martha's Vineyard. Red frequented the island when he was a child. His parents owned a small home that had since been torn down and replaced with a supermarket. He never really cared for it until he brought his wife one summer, to rekindle their romance; Red was constantly absent due to his job, and she had begun to stray. For Jennifer's sake, Red brought Carla to the island and did everything in his power to sweep her off her feet. It was in Martha's Vineyard that Red realized nothing should've been more important to him than his family.

The feeling of warmth and safety that he lost long ago was waiting on the island. He wanted so badly to retrieve it for himself. And for Lizzie.

Lizzie.

He hadn't had time to think about why he brought her there, but he knew that the cottage couldn't be traced to him. They had taken all underground methods to get there, it took them weeks because they switched cars and busses so often. Dembe stayed behind to keep an eye on the major players in the Cabal and the task force.

He knew they were mostly safe, at least for a little while. His Lizzie was safe.

 _His_ Lizzie. Not Tom's.

He knew he was possessive, but he had nothing except his own feelings to tie himself to her. There had been no indication that she felt the same-she was still distant most of the time. She'd had difficulty adjusting to the lifestyle at first. But eventually, she was up and ready to move before Red every morning. He was somewhat proud, but mostly disgusted that he had driven her life to that point.

He'd meant what he said before they left, that he never wanted her to end up like him-the idea made his jaw clench, but after those first months, he was starting to feel something else.

It was selfish of him, he thought, absolutely selfish, but he loved having Lizzie with him. He smiled when he thought about them, just like Bonnie and Clyde, numbers four and five on the FBI's most wanted list. He enjoyed the classic noir films where the well-dressed gangster had the equally dangerous beauty on his arm. The irony wasn't lost on him.

He was sitting in their small living room, still in his pajamas at eleven in the morning, thinking about her. It seemed like it was all he ever did those days-though, he had been working hard and thought that he deserved the bouts of daydreaming. Then he let his mind wander further- maybe he deserved more than daydreams. Maybe he did deserve Lizzie; maybe his Blacklist redeemed him enough to finally get his light in his life of darkness. Exposing the Cabal was a public service, and he smiled at the thought of the two of them as heroes.

There was no doubt that he loved her. He had loved her for a long time, but he didn't dare do anything about it when life was normal (or at least their idea of normal)-hunting Blacklisters, regular trips to the hospital, disposable phones, and eleventh hour rescues. It felt nice to play the good guy again; he had cut ties with most of his associates, cashing in debts and making honest investments to give him enough money for a lifetime. He and Lizzie had gone rogue, and only Dembe knew where they were.

And that left them spending their time alone together. It was surprisingly domestic and civil. After she found out the truth about her past, she didn't have much to ask him. He would amuse her with stories of his business encounters, they would read in pleasant silence, he gave her piano lessons, and they sparred every day to keep in shape. He enjoyed having stability back, a routine with someone he loved, someone he couldn't imagine life without. But lately, something wasn't right with Lizzie. She went for long walks alone and opted out of their usual activities. Red didn't mind all that much-he had been dying for alone time. He loved spending every second with her, but his isolated nature still hadn't crumbled completely. She had left earlier that morning and hadn't yet returned.

After he cleaned up from their breakfast, he plopped himself on the couch and switched the on the television. He found a Marx Brother's movie and propped his slippered feet on their small glass coffee table. He forgot all about the Cabal, his past life, the blood that he had spilled over the years, and just laughed. He was laughing at a particularly clever joke when Lizzie walked in. He didn't notice her right away, so she stood and studied him for a moment.

They never had fun. She wanted so badly to just forget everything with someone familiar. But Red carefully laid out their activities, and Lizzie always felt like they were more tolerable for him than her. She wasn't a complainer, and he had saved her life. She was afraid he would take her words as ungratefulness. Her feelings for him had changed considerably. She was in love with him, and had no idea that he loved her, too. They hadn't even touched like they used to. One day, she almost fell in the kitchen when he caught her in his arms. His face went red and he excused himself immediately. She'd thought that since she knew all there was to know that he would start to open up to her more. The only reason she hadn't made an advance on him was because she thought he might think her too young. She had done her best to show him that Sam raised her as an old soul-she enjoyed old movies, jazz music, and classic novels. He still remained distant.

Her heart soared when she saw him sitting in his plaid pajama pants and thick-rimmed glasses (she had also learned that he wore contacts, but he had to switch to glasses since they went on the run). Once his laughter died down, he became aware of her presence.

"Lizzie...hey."

"Hey, yourself."

He looked down at his pants awkwardly and shrugged.

"Is this what you do when I'm gone?"

Her smile was contagious.

"Well, we all need some alone time."

She shed her jacket, sat down next to him, pulled off her shoes, and mimicked his relaxed posture.

"Mind if I join you?"

"You already have, dear."

They both turned their attention to the television and in a half hour, they were laughing like they never had before. As the film came to an end, she looked over to see him staring intently at her.

"You know Red, I think I'd like to start doing this more often."

He smiled widely.

"I knew you weren't as boring as you looked."

His smile dropped to his regular stone face.

"I didn't mean it like that. I just meant that we're here indefinitely, together. And, I think that it would be nice for us to share everything."

"Everything?"

"Everything. I don't like walking by myself, but I don't want to stay here and read with you all day. I want to have fun with my best friend."

He let out a contented sigh. She called him her best friend and all he could do was look at her dreamy eyed. He grabbed her hand and interlaced their fingers.

"You're my best friend, too, Lizzie."

She cupped his face with her remaining hand and felt the morning stubble that followed him into the afternoon.

He didn't want to do anything she didn't want, so he withdrew his hand and looked away.

"What's the matter, Red?"

"It's nothing, just a thought-came and went like strangers in the night."

He was surprised when she accepted his explanation and stood.

"I'm going to take a nap. Maybe we can order a pizza tonight and watch another movie?"

He rose with her. He had formed the beginnings of a plan and was excited to see how it would pan out.

"Let me take care of dinner. Have a nice rest."

He kissed her on the forehead, swept up the stairs, and disappeared into their bathroom.

Her heart fell at the small intimacy and she slowly made her way to her bedroom in joyful surprise.

He arrived at the small gourmet market wearing jeans and a t-shirt. Lizzie had fallen asleep before he left. He was beyond impatient for their night to begin.

He needed to show her how he felt. He didn't care if he was rejected, at least he would have made an honest attempt to make her his.

He got all the supplies for prosciutto-wrapped melon, spaghetti carbonara, and a decadent chocolate cake with strawberries for dessert.

No one could ever say that Raymond Reddington was an amateur at seduction. He had never felt so strongly about anyone before, so he needed his date night to be perfect.

He stopped by the florist and the liquor store next to get the most beautiful red roses he had ever seen, and the most expensive bottle of wine his money could buy.

Then he found himself at the jewelry store. Lizzie was unconventional, much like himself, so boring jewelry was out of the question. He needed to find something that was purely his Lizzie.

He never thought he would find it, but he did.

It was a beautiful cameo locket with dark red rubies on the edges. The chain was antique looking, and he knew Lizzie would appreciate the vintage style. He had learned that Sam instilled a love for past generations in his little girl, and Red was proud of his friend for raising such a woman. He called over the clerk.

"I want this engraved on the inside."

"Engravings take about three days, sir. What would-"

"Now. I need it done now."

"I'm sorry sir, but-"

Red looked at him with his classic rage while he pulled out his wallet. His eyes never leaving the clerk's, he threw two thousand dollars on the top of the case.

"Something to help you make up your mind."

"Uh, sir-"

"Now."

The clerk made quick work of gathering the necklace and Red's wad of $100 bills. He looked around the empty shop and his eyes met Red's again.

"What do you want it to say?"

"Who ever loved that loved not at first sight? Love, Raymond."

"Very beautiful, sir."

"It's Shakespeare: you're not getting any more money."

When he walked into the house, she was still asleep and he counted his lucky stars. It was about five o'clock, and he wanted to make sure everything was perfect. He was nervous for the first time in a while, but his Lizzie did things to him. As a small child, she tugged at his heart strings. When she walked into the post office for the first time, she tugged at every part of him. He thought how his love for her had evolved, had grown into something so seasoned, so refined and familiar.

He made quick work of laying the table cloth and candles on their small table. Next he clipped the bottoms of the roses and placed them in a crystal vase, then he set to work on dinner.

Once everything was how he wanted, and the appetizer had been prepped, he made his way upstairs. He knocked on her door and lightly opened it to find her still sleeping peacefully. He walked over to her bed and stood beside her, watching her for a moment before he spoke.

"Lizzie."

Her eyes opened gradually and she stretched to a sitting position.

"I must've been more tired than I thought."

"Dinner will be ready shortly, and in case you're wondering, the dress code is formal for this evening."

She laughed and raised an eyebrow at his jeans.

"Oh, don't worry, I'll be changing. I'll expect you downstairs in forty minutes. Don't be late."

He winked at her before exiting the room.

He wasn't happy with how he looked, he brushed it off as his nerves. He had chosen his pinstriped, black three-pieced suit with a new dark red tie that he hadn't worn yet. He had shined his shoes just the day before and decided on a new pair of cufflinks at the jewelry store earlier. He chose his most masculine cologne, a blend of citrus and musk. He made good time with the spaghetti and was setting the table when she came down the stairs.

Almost as if she knew, she was wearing a dark red dress that nearly matched his tie and cufflinks. She must've gotten the dress on one of her walks with his credit card. His mouth was agape at the sight of her.

The small velvet box with her necklace in it suddenly felt very heavy in his pocket.

Her dress stopped just before her knees where it flared out like a 1950s femme fatale. She wore short black heels and her hair was loose over her shoulders.

"Lizzie, I don't know what to say."

She smiled, and he couldn't help but stare at her dark red lipstick and imagine how it would look smeared all over his own lips after a passionate embrace. After a beat, she moved toward the table and he pulled her chair out for her. In a moment they were both sitting with glasses of wine and plates filled with food. Red cringed when he remembered the melon in the fridge-he had forgotten in completely. Apparently, it showed.

"What's wrong?"

"Oh, I...I just forgot the appetizers."

"Let's save those for later, then."

He could imagine eating the melon off her smooth body while she squirmed under him.

He really had to stop, or he wasn't going to make it to dessert. He rubbed his hands on his trousers before arranging his napkin on his lap.

They quickly fell into an amicable conversation. She complemented him endlessly on the evening he had prepared for them and he nervously cleared his throat before uttering a strangled "Thank you".

After their dessert, he loaded the dishwasher and cleaned the pans while she waited for him on the couch. He had avoided the subject long enough.

He straightened his tie and put his jacket back on, then checked his pocket to make sure the necklace was still there. He strode into the living room with his wine with as much composure as he could muster. She had pushed off her shoes and curled her legs beneath her. He smiled at the sight of her so unguarded. He sat on the other end of the couch, trying to keep the space between them respectable. She adjusted herself so she was facing him and offered her glass for a toast.

"I don't know what to toast to because you never mentioned the occasion."

 _"All right Red, you're up"_ , he thought. He took her wine glass and laid it next to his on the far end of the coffee table. He rose and moved to sit on the table just in front of her. She cocked her head in confusion and uncurled her legs.

"What's wrong, Red?"

"Absolutely nothing. And that's what we have to discuss."

"I don't understand."

"Lizzie, before I start talking, I want you to know that whatever you decide is okay. I'm not forcing you to do anything that you don't want."

She nodded, anticipating what was coming next. She was getting just as nervous as he was.

He quickly reached over and gulped his wine until he had drained his glass, and wiped his hands on his trousers to get rid of the anxious sweat. He breathed out and began:

"You know I've known you for most of your life. When we met, you were a child, and I was still learning, too. I watched you grow up, and I always felt that you were important to me, but I hadn't seen you in so long that you were like a ghost. When I lost my family, when they left...you became my only family. I know it sounds strange, but you were a constant even from afar."

He paused and picked up her wine glass. He looked at her and she nodded, so he downed the rest of her wine in two sips. He replaced the glass and held his hands out to her, she took them and he closed his eyes contentedly.

"I turned myself in because I had so little left, and I thought this girl-this beautiful, intelligent, charismatic light at the end of my tunnel-maybe she could save me. When I first saw you, Lizzie, I don't know how I formed a cohesive sentence. I thought myself selfish at first, but I think that I've been good for you, I think I have value, and I think that..."

He was rubbing her scar with his thumb, her eyes were already pooling with tears, he silently contemplated for a moment, he hadn't even looked at her yet.

"...I think that I'm in love with you...no, no, that's not right, I know that I am in love with you, Elizabeth Keen, my Lizzie..."

He stopped for a moment to smile at the way her name sounded.

"...And I can only hope, I can only dream that you feel the same way."

He met her eyes then and noticed the tears had started falling. He cupped her face with his hands.

"Please don't cry, sweetheart."

"Red, I...I-"

"Hold that thought."

He let go of her face and she sniffled at the loss of contact. He reached into his pocket and pulled out the necklace. Placing the box in her hands, he pulled his shaking ones away.

She opened it and smiled instantly, she had always loved cameo pins, and the necklace was beautiful. She opened the locket and read his engraving, she started crying harder and in the next moment she had her arms around him, nearly launching herself onto his lap. She was kissing his neck and cheeks.

"Red...I...love...you...too," she blurted out between kisses.

He stood with her in his arms and twirled her around-he was like a small boy on Christmas and he couldn't help himself. He set her down in front of him and gazed at her with teary eyes.

"Oh sweetheart, you've just made me the happiest man in the world."

He covered her lips with his own and kissed her with a tenderness that made her want to cry all over again. His tongue entered her mouth with ease and she pulled him closer. He gently stroked his tongue over every inch of her mouth before he pulled away and placed his forehead on hers.

"I've waited so long to do that."

He took the necklace from her hand and fastened it around her neck. She kissed him again then pulled away to rest her head on his chest. He stroked her hair and rocked them back and forth.

"Lizzie, you're my everything. I'm yours and you're mine. I promise to make you happier than you ever thought possible. I love you, sweetheart."

"I love you, too, Raymond."


End file.
